


and let me see your heart upon your sleeve

by tryalittlejoytomorrow



Category: Still Star-Crossed (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Aunt-Niece Relationship, Christmas Fluff, Christmas fic, F/M, Family Fluff, Kid Fic, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-15
Updated: 2019-01-13
Packaged: 2019-09-19 16:29:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 18,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17005125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tryalittlejoytomorrow/pseuds/tryalittlejoytomorrow
Summary: "We're snowbound," Livia repeated louder. "All flights are cancelled because of the storm. Paris is talking to the manager to see if we can rent a car and get to some other airport, but it all looks very bad, I'm not even sure the roads are safe." She paused, and Rosaline could just picture her, gnawing on her thumbnail. "I'm afraid we won't be home for Christmas.""Don't say that," Rosaline shook her head. "Come on, it's Christmas, isn't it the most magical time of the year? You keep telling me that. Have some faith. And don't worry about the girls, they're having so much fun with Juliet.""Yeah, about that..."--Christmas-unenthusiast Rosaline is forced to find her Christmas spirit ASAP when she has to look after her nieces over the holidays. Lucky for her, her neighbor might just have some extra in store.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by "Christmas next door", yet another cheesy Hallmark movie that owns my ass.
> 
> title from Nick Jonas & Shania Twain's "Say all you want for Christmas."

Rosaline was going to strangle her neighbor with one of the ridiculous tinsel garlands he had all over his house and lawn, and no jury was ever going to declare her guilty for it.

Sighing heavily, she backed from her desk, shutting her laptop close. There was no way she could get the introduction to her latest documentary on city hall corruption done with the screeching noise coming from across the lane. Rosaline got up and leaned against the window in her office, looking down on Verona Grove Street, and gnawed at her bottom lip to hold another sigh back.

It wasn't that Rosaline _didn't_ like Christmas - she had fond memories of baking with her mother or climbing on her father's shoulders to put the tree topper on, and of giggling happily with Livia as they tried to sneak a peek at Santa. But Rosaline wasn't five years-old anymore, and now Christmas meant a nice dinner with her sister and cousin, a less pleasant but mandatory visit to her aunt and uncle, and a nice bottle of wine to forget it all; nothing like the extravaganza that was going on outside. The people of Verona Grove Street were as hyper about Christmas as a three year-old could be, and Rosaline's neighbor from across the street seemed to be the elf-in-charge there.

Rosaline believed he was officially two ice reindeers, five ugly Christmas sweaters, and three Christmas wreaths, _over-the-top_. Ever since she'd moved in here a month ago she'd only seen him taking out his trash or picking up the mail, a friendly wave now and then but not much more; but then December, 1st, had come around and Benjamin - she thought it was Benjamin, but then again maybe it wasn't? - had gone crazy. His front yard looked like a shop window, as the inside of his house probably did too, and Rosaline was pretty sure she'd seen him wearing _reindeer antlers_ the other day. Rosaline would think that was all cute if the entire neighborhood didn't look at her as if she were the Grinch for not partaking in the holiday spirit with the same, or, truth be told, _any_ enthusiasm.

Rosaline's own front yard was bare of any Christmas decoration, but she had some fairy lights strung around the staircase and that had to count for something, didn't it? Besides, she didn't really have time to decorate her house. She still hadn't unpacked all of her boxes, and the deadline for her documentary was looming over her head, taunting her.

Considering she hadn't written a _single_ , worthy word today, she really didn't have time for anything else, which was why the screeching _had_ to stop.

Rosaline was about to go and make him swallow his piano when she spotted a woman coming up his lane and knocking on his door. The screeching stopped instantly, and Rosaline sent a silent blessing. The door opened, revealing her neighbor and the little boy who seemed to be the cause of her troubles today. Her neighbor - Benedict if not Benjamin? - taught piano, and though not all his students were terrible, one too many still had kept her from working with the many mishaps their fingers made on the piano keys. With the departure of the young apprentice and the sudden but welcome silence, Rosaline went back to her desk, hoping to get some work done at last.

And then she stared and stared and stared at the half-written introduction she'd worked on for over an hour and deleted it all.

Her phone rang, and Rosaline welcomed the distraction gladly, if slightly guiltily, too. "Hey, Jules," she greeted her cousin. "How are you doing with the kids?"

"You mean the kids you promised you would come and see this afternoon?" Even through the phone, Rosaline could see Juliet tilting her head and cocking an eyebrow at her. "These kids are currently spilling glitter all over my rug making you a Christmas card, don't tell them I told you."

"I won't," Rosaline promised. "Listen, Juliet... I know I said I'd try and come by, but this documentary is driving me crazy. I have less than two weeks to wrap it up and so far all I have is disconnected videos and no narrative."

"I thought it was pretty straightforward, like, we _all_ know Mantua is rotten with corruption."

It was pretty straightforward on paper, Rosaline thought. Mantua was a city nearby whose latest administration had tarnished its former golden reputation. Tension had risen between Verona and Mantua ever since, and Rosaline's boss had chosen her to write a paper and direct a documentary about it. It was right down Rosaline's alley; she had written many articles about politics through her years at the Local Verona Tribune, but she was sort of stuck with that one. As Juliet had said, everyone knew about corruption in Mantua. What was the point of making another documentary about it? And, really - why the rush to publish it right between Christmas and New Year's Eve? Both Juliet and Livia had asked Rosaline that question, and Rosaline hadn't been able to give them a proper answer.

Rosaline pushed her reading glasses up to the crown of her hair, and wiped a hand over her eyes. "Tell me about it," she said at last.

"You need a break, honey. Really. You should come and have dinner with us tonight. It'll help you relax."

"I need to work, Jules."

Juliet sighed. "I get that, Ros. But you're clearly not into it right now, and Amanda and Adelaide were so excited to see you. You're their favorite aunt, remember?"

Rosaline laughed. "That's only because you're their favorite godmother. Look, I swear I'll come by sometime this week, okay? I'll take you guys out for dinner. But right now I need to work on that intro, I promised Helena I'd send her a copy tonight."

"I'll hold you onto that. Or I'll call Livia and tell her you're being a scrooge, and she'll force you to chill."

"Please don't." Livia was the sweetest person Rosaline knew, but her sister could get scary when in a mood - and seeing Rosaline holed up in her office elbow deep in work a mere few days before Christmas, no hot cocoa nor Christmas jazz softly playing, would earn Rosaline a scolding even though she was the eldest of them three. "I'll call the girls later, wish them goodnight."

"Okay. Well, Addie needs some help with her collage, so I'll just leave you to work. Don't overdo it. Relax. Eat a carrot. Watch some Hallmark movie. Have you seen the cute one with the dating app? I mean, it's not a dating app, actually, it's something that you'd like, it's the story of this girl who creates an app for single people looking for some hot, smart, eligible partners to show off at events, but her match is that one dude she met earlier and -"

"Juliet, I love you, but I stopped listening to you at _eat a carrot_ ," Rosaline interrupted her, a grin twitching at her lips. "I don't have time for Hallmark movies." Both Juliet and Livia loved Christmas movies to pieces, while Rosaline usually snorted at how cliché they were. Honestly, who fell in love and decided to get married in three days? Where were the sequels showing the real consequences of such brash, impulsive decisions? "I'll call you back later, okay?"

"You better. Love you," Juliet said, then hung up. Rosaline sighed again, then put her glasses back on and swirled her desk chair to face her computer again.

And then she heard the first notes of a tune none of her neighbor's student could ever play.

 

* * *

 

"Look, I really dig the minimalist aesthetic, but this place really needs some life into it." Isabella ran a finger along the wooden bookshelf, where Rosaline's books were perfectly aligned and organized. A single photograph was framed, one of Livia and Rosaline and their parents; the rest of the shelves were bare of any decoration. "First of all, there's no picture of _me_ here, and that's unacceptable."

Rosaline sent a pleading look to Helena, but her friend only shrugged a shoulder and kept sipping her wine. "I've only been here a month, Izzie. I don't have -"

Isabella pointed a finger at her. "Don't you go and tell me you don't have time. You _make_ time, girl."

"Yes, mom," Rosaline agreed, rolling her eyes. "It's just that article, it's a pain in my ass."

"Mine, too," Helena nodded. "No offense."

Rosaline set a tray of veggie dips and more wine on the coffee table, and curled up in her armchair.  "None taken, seriously. I know I'm not giving you anything to work with the videos you made. _I_ don't have anything to work with."

Isabella joined them, curling up on the couch, her long legs stretched over Helena's lap. "What seems to be the problem?" she asked. "You've worked on tons of projects like these before."

"Maybe _that's_ the problem," Rosaline let out grumpily. At Isabella's curious expression, she inhaled deeply and exhaled slowly, resting her head against the back of her armchair. "I mean, corruption is everywhere, right? That's not a story, that's a conversation topic for business parties. People are not going to care about yet another documentary on how messed up politics really are."

Isabella studied her, serious and analytical. "Do you? Care, I mean."

Rosaline wanted to say that she did. She'd gotten into journalism for this exact reason, to expose the wrongdoings of power-hungry politicians and make them accountable. She always chose her own stories, though; this was the first time her boss had given her an assignment. Perhaps that was the thing that didn't sit well with her. " _If_ there is a story to tell somewhere, it's important that I tell it right."

Helena chuckled under her breath. Isabella nudged her with her elbow, but Helena only shrugged. "Come on, that was a bullshit answer and you both know it. The reason why we're both stuck on that documentary is because it's not _you_ , Ros. Politics aren't your brand, your _voice_ is."

Rosaline dipped her head, feeling a blush creep up her cheeks. A handful of her pieces and documentaries had made the front page or received a prize, but a compliment from her friend and coworker meant a great deal more. "I don't feel like I have a voice right now," she admitted grimly. "I've spent hours rewriting parts I'd already written, only to erase everything after."

"Find something else to write about, then," Isabella suggested. "Something you're passionate about. Something people in Verona are gonna be passionate about, too."

"I can't just switch topics ten days before the deadline, Iz. Helena has worked hours on her film."

Helena laughed. "Helena will be more than happy to throw it all away." She refilled their three glasses, and handed them to Rosaline and Isabella. "We've both been miserable about that project. Let's find something else. In ten days. We've made tighter schedules work," she nodded her head enthusiastically. "In the meantime, let's celebrate the new house, the very _Christmasy_ neighborhood, and the very cute neighbor we saw on our way there."

Rosaline frowned. "You've been here five minutes and you're already trying to set me up. Unbelievable."

"Very believable," Isabella grinned. "And the neighbor is very cute. The one across the street, with the fairy tale front yard? He looks familiar. Do you know him?"

"His name is Ben-something, I think?" Rosaline shrugged. "I haven't really gotten to talk to any of the neighbors yet. He's the embodiment of Christmas, so it _has_ kind of kept me at bay." Isabella pinched her lips as if she were keeping herself from saying something. "Maybe he's cute. I wouldn't know, what with the _Mr. Darcy_ Christmas sweaters he insists on wearing."

Helena snorted. "Second time you're bullshitting us in, what, ten minutes? He _is_ cute, even _I_ know it. And it wouldn't kill you to get into some holiday spirit."

"Or his bed."

"You two are the worst."

"Pretend all you want," Helena said. "Anyway, when are Livia and Paris coming home? The girls must be getting impatient."

"Tomorrow, actually," Rosaline told them. "Juliet is spoiling them. I'm pretty sure they wouldn't mind staying with her for another full week. You should see what they've done to her place. There's glitter everywhere."

Isabella looked around at the bare, pristine walls and shelves. "This place needs some glitter. That's it. That's what's missing."

"Maybe some ornaments, too? And, you know, a tree," Helena suggested teasingly.

Rosaline stuck out her tongue at her. "I'll leave Livia to the decorating and vacuuming pine needles all day long, thank you very much. I'll be right here, ordering presents online and enjoying wine and pizza with you guys." She tipped her glass to them. "That's the dream."

"The pizza you ordered twenty minutes ago?" Isabella frowned as her stomach started growling. "Tell me you've got a plan B. I do _not_ thrive on carrot sticks."

Just as Isabella was whining, the doorbell rang. "Ye of little faith!" Rosaline hummed on her way to the door. Opening the door, she turned to grab her purse and some change, when she stopped mid-track upon realizing that the person standing on her porch _wasn't_ the deliveryman but her Christmas-loving neighbor. " _Oh_. Hi."

He chuckled. "Do I detect disappointment?" When Rosaline didn't immediately answer - and really, what was she supposed to say - he fully laughed. "I come bearing gifts, though."

He pushed a box of cookies in her hands, huge chocolate chunks and a big red bow tied around the box. "Uh...thank you," Rosaline said, looking from the cookies to the man before her, bright eyes and smile, with a ridiculous scarf with tiny snowflakes on it. "Really. That's really nice, uh -"

"Benvolio," he offered his name at her awkwardness, and one of his hands to shake hers. "I know we haven't properly met yet, so I figured it was time to introduce myself, and, well, welcome you to the neighborhood. Hence the cookies," he waved a hand at the box. "They're from my cousin's, the coffee shop around the corner? Best cookies in Verona, if I do say so myself."

"Duly noted," Rosaline smiled. "I'm Rosaline, by the way."

Footsteps neared, and Isabella's head popped from behind the wall. "Did I hear _cookies_?" she asked in a tiny, childlike voice.

Benvolio's smile faded a little upon seeing her. "You were busy. I didn't think - sorry for disturbing your night." He nodded his head and almost made to retreat when Isabella laughed out loud.

"You brought cookies, that entitles you to come in and wait for the pizza with us," Isabella said in a _duh_ tone. "Right, Ros?"

She rose a challenging eyebrow, the subtext oh so clear: _come on, Rosaline, live a little_. Rosaline ignored her and turned to Benvolio, giving him a coy smile. "You're more than welcome, really. We've got carrots and wine. And, well, cookies now, thanks to you."

"As tempting as that sounds, I'll leave you to your girls night." Isabella reached out to shake his hand a lot more enthusiastically than needed, so Rosaline had to do the same, feeling her friend's gaze boring into the back of her neck. Benvolio turned to leave when he suddenly snapped his fingers, digging through his pockets. "Wait, I wanted to give you this." He fished out a flyer and gave it to her. "My cousin's organizing this whole charity dinner at his place every year, on December, 22nd. Most of the neighborhood goes, so, like, if you find yourself in need of some good food or company..."

He gave her a smile then that could have been flirty on anyone else but only seemed genuine on him. Rosaline reciprocated, carefully tucking the flyer in her jeans pocket, and watched as Benvolio crossed the street and made his way to his front door through the tiny path left in between all the decorations in his yard.

When she closed her front door with her foot, the cookie box wedged beneath her armpit, Rosaline found herself cornered by both Isabella and Helena. "I stand corrected," Isabella said. "He's not very cute. He's _hot_."

She smiled smugly, and Rosaline rolled her eyes. "Helena?" she tried to plead her friend. "A little help here?"

Helena crossed her arms over her chest, pretending to pout. "Nope. You guys got the meet-cute with him and left me all alone."

Isabella snatched the cookie box from Rosaline and led Helena back to the couch. "I did try to make him stay for dinner, babe," she cooed as she handed her a cookie, clearly bribing her girlfriend with chocolate. "Rosaline's the one who needs to step up her game."

Rosaline rolled her eyes. "All Rosaline really needs this Christmas is to not get fired because she didn't finish her assignment."

Isabella crooked an eyebrow at her. "You know, once this assignment is over, you won't have any more excuses to run away from cute guys...or, you know, cute guy, _singular_ , lives across the street, easy access..."

The doorbell rang again, saving Rosaline. "And they say romance is dead," she muttered as she got up again to get the door.

 

* * *

 

"What do you mean, you're stuck in Italy?" Rosaline asked her sister for the second time. She could barely hear Livia through the phone; maybe she was imagining the whole thing.

"We're snowbound," Livia repeated louder. "All flights are cancelled because of the storm. Paris is talking to the manager to see if we can rent a car and get to some other airport, but it all looks very bad, I'm not even sure the roads are safe." She paused, and Rosaline could just picture her, gnawing on her thumbnail. "I'm afraid we won't be home for Christmas."

"Don't say that," Rosaline shook her head. "Come on, it's Christmas, isn't it the most magical time of the year? You keep telling me that. Have some faith. And don't worry about the girls, they're having so much fun with Juliet."

"Yeah, about that..." Livia paused again, but it felt ominous this time. Rosaline started biting on her bottom lip. "When I called Juliet to tell her, she sounded quite sick, you know? I don't think she can handle Addie and Mandy right now."

"That's weird, she didn't look sick when I saw her the other day," Rosaline said. "Maybe she just needs a nap, the girls can be quiet for an afternoon."

"Rosaline."

Rosaline pressed her fists against her eyes. She loved her nieces to pieces and she would do anything for them, _anything_ \- but this was so not the time to have two excited bundles of joy running around her house when she had to work and had no direction whatsoever for her article so far. Combined to her own lack of motivation and inspiration, the odds were definitely not in her favor.

But she could never say no to Livia. And she couldn't ask of Juliet to look after her own nieces when her poor cousin was down with the flu or something.

Rosaline looked around at her house, still mostly bare and organized, and mentally prepared herself for the hurricane in the shape of two very energetic little girls that was about to blow everything up. "Okay, sure. I'll go and pick them up."

 

* * *

 

At the young age of thirty-two, Rosaline had graduated with honors, made a name for herself in the world of journalism and politics, and owned a house in one of the nicest neighborhoods in Verona. She was quite proud of herself, a feat not easily accomplished considering how hard she could be on herself sometimes.

Looking at the mostly unlived living-room and its bare walls save for a frame of Rosaline's first-ever-published article, Adelaide, age seven, looked majorly unimpressed. "But, Auntie Rose, where's your Christmas tree?" she asked Rosaline with round eyes. "Where will Santa put all the presents?"

"Surely Santa knows your Mom and Dad's address, sweetie," Rosaline said as she went after the trail of coat, hat and bag Amanda had left after her on her way to the bathroom. "He'll know to leave your presents there. Don't worry about it."

Adelaide stared at her with even rounder eyes, seemingly in shock. "But Mommy said they might not be home before Christmas, so we'll celebrate here, won't we? So we need a tree!"

"And cookies!" Amanda dashed through the living-room, her skirt halfway stuck in her woolen tights. Rosaline picked her up and rearranged her clothing, and Amanda all but bounced on her lap. "We have to bake cookies! Auntie Juliet said you would help us bake cookies for Santa!"

Rosaline snorted. "Of course she said that. But Auntie Juliet surely exaggerated my baking skills, sweetheart. There's a great coffee shop where we can get amazing cookies, and -"

"No!" Amanda all but shrieked with all the strength in her five year-old lungs. " _We_ have to make them. Santa will know!"

Adelaide came nearer, sitting cross-legged at Rosaline's feet. "It's not Christmas without a tree and cookies and stockings and presents, Auntie Rose." The little girl looked up at her with the most serious eyes she'd ever seen. "Mommy said you would help us prepare for Christmas."

Adelaide added a little tremor to her lip, and Rosaline felt her heart swell up ten sizes. She reached out her hand to her niece and helped her climb on her lap. "Listen, girls. I really do have to work a lot, but I'll do my best, okay? I can get us a tree, and I can _try_ to bake cookies. But you'll have to be nice and quiet when I work, deal?"

Both sisters looked at each other; Rosaline guessed they were gauging each other, wondering if they _could_ be quiet. They were good kids, and Rosaline loved them, but there was something about children and Christmas that turned even the most angelic ones in gremlins. "Can we go get the tree now?" Adelaide pleaded.

Two pairs of bright, brown eyes, looked up at her, shining with wonder, and Rosaline realized Livia wasn't the only person she couldn't say no to.

 

* * *

 

She should have said no.

Every tree the girls stared at and sized up was considered too small, or not _majestic_ enough; Rosaline wondered where a five year-old had even learnt that word. Probably in one of the books she had gotten them, damn herself.

"What about this one?" she suggested, gesturing to a medium-sized, car-appropriate tree. Rosaline regretted not switching cars with Paris and Livia's when Amanda's eyes fell on the tree, then on her, with as much disdain as a five year-old could muster.

"Daddy always gets the tallest!" Amanda assured her, easily dashing through the snow-covered ground and waltzing between the trees. Adelaide followed suit, and Rosaline watched them disappear between the trees, their giggles echoing as they started playing hide-and-seek.

Rosaline slumped on a bench and rested her chin on her hands. "What did I get myself into?" she murmured. Frost bit in her snow- _inappropriate_ boots (they were cute and on sale, and _deserved_ her), and she was freezing her ass off.

"Need some help?"

Benvolio stood there, a bright green scarf with tiny Santas the only garment peeking from his furry collar. Rosaline couldn't help a smile. "You're here for a tree?" she asked, surprised. "I thought you must have had two already."

"Two?" Benvolio laughed, then sat beside her. "Why would I need two trees? That's nonsense."

Rosaline crossed her arms and stared at him. "Why would you need _three_ Christmas wreaths?"

"Easy. One for my front door, one for the mailbox, and one for the garage door," he counted on his fingers. "I've noticed you don't have one."

Rosaline shrugged. "I'm not really into Christmas, I guess. I'm only here because the girls wanted a tree so badly." She pointed at Adelaide and Amanda who were arguing over a tree. "My nieces. My sister and her husband went on a work trip in Italy and they're stuck there until Christmas. I'm on tree-duty."

"A noble cause," Benvolio agreed, failing to hide the grin that twitched at his lips. "I'm here to pick one for my cousin's coffee shop. Do you need help with yours?"

Rosaline nodded eagerly. "I need help reining in these two elves. They will not tolerate anything less than _regal_ and _huge_. Addie, Mandy!" she called out. "Come over here." The girls trekked back through the snow, clearly still arguing over their tree options. "Come here, say hi to Benvolio."

Amanda waved and Adelaide extended a hand, ever a proper lady. Benvolio smiled at her and shook her hand. "I heard you're in need of a Christmas tree, miss," he said. "Tall and huge and beautiful, I presume?"

Adelaide nodded enthusiastically. "Mandy found one, but..." She looked down at her boots. "I think it's too big for Auntie Rose's car."

"Well, then, you're in luck," Benvolio told her as he crouched down to be eye-level with her, "because my trunk is big enough for two trees. Show me."

Adelaide's eyes brightened, and she sought out Rosaline's for confirmation. "It's true. Benvolio is a tree expert of a sort. Go on, show him."

Adelaide beamed and, grabbing Benvolio's hand, she took off, Amanda running to catch up with them. Rosaline stood there, feeling giddy all of a sudden as her heart did that funny, reckless flip in her chest.

She was glad the girls were having fun, that was all.

It had nothing to do with the sight of her very nice, very helpful, and _admittedly_ very cute neighbor holding her niece's hand and making her dream come true as if it were his favorite thing to do.

_Nope_.

 

* * *

 

_to be continued  
_

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Are you sure Daddy always gets the tallest?" Rosaline asked the girls, doubtful. "I don't remember the tree being that tall last year." To a five and seven year-old it might look that way, maybe, but Rosaline was fairly sure that she was being tricked by their adorableness. Amanda nodded her head so quickly her hat fell on top of her eyes. "Okay, then," she sighed, pushing the girl's hat up her forehead and stroking her cheek fondly. "We just need to find someone to cut it down."
> 
> Benvolio tipped his chin to a small shed nearby. "Saws are right there."
> 
> "What do you mean?" Rosaline looked from Adelaide and Amanda, who were beaming, to Benvolio, waiting for one of them to tell her it was all one big joke. When none of them volunteered, she rubbed tiredly at her eyes. "I have to chop it down myself?"

_The_ tree was taller than Benvolio, with thick branches that would leave tons of needles on Rosaline's pristine white rug. Even with his help Rosaline had a hard time imagining how they were supposed to even carry it to his car, even less fit two of them on the roof.

"Are you _sure_ Daddy always gets the _tallest_?" Rosaline asked the girls, doubtful. "I don't remember the tree being _that_ tall last year." To a five and seven year-old it might look that way, maybe, but Rosaline was fairly sure that she was being tricked by their adorableness. Amanda nodded her head so quickly her hat fell on top of her eyes. "Okay, then," she sighed, pushing the girl's hat up her forehead and stroking her cheek fondly. "We just need to find someone to cut it down."

Benvolio tipped his chin to a small shed nearby. "Saws are right there."

"What do you mean?" Rosaline looked from Adelaide and Amanda, who were beaming, to Benvolio, waiting for one of them to tell her it was all one big joke. When none of them volunteered, she rubbed tiredly at her eyes. "I have to chop it down _myself_?" 

"It's part of the experience," Benvolio shrugged, a smile curling at his mouth as he tucked his tongue in his cheek. "I mean, there _is_ a sign at the entrance. Where do you usually get your tree?"

"I _don't_ ," Rosaline grumbled as she made her way to the shed to get a saw, then stopped abruptly as the realization that she had never used a saw, nor cut a tree, dawned on her. The thought brought another, just as aggravating - that she was going to have to _ask for_ _help_. It _wasn't_ her strongest suit.

Benvolio brushed past her, reaching for a tree saw that he used to indicate the frost-covered ground. "I can give you some tips, if you want," he offered kindly. "Get down here, I'll walk you through it."

Rosaline was grateful that he didn't volunteer to do it _for_ her as if she were too distressed a damsel to do it herself; still, she looked down at her jeans, perfect to make her legs look longer and slimmer, but terrible to lie down in the snow, and almost regretted the bout of pride and independence that made her want to learn instead of gladly letting him take over. "Okay, sure. What could go wrong?" she murmured to herself as she lowered herself to the ground as gracefully as she could without landing flat on her nose. She swore under her breath as the cold seeped through the fabric of her jeans at her knees and right into her flesh.

She felt more than she heard Benvolio's chuckle behind her, his breath fanning at the nape of her neck where her scarf was loose and revealing her skin. He was crouching behind her, and transferred the saw from his hands to hers. "Okay, you're gonna need to lie down and scoot as close to the trunk as you can. On your side, there," he said as he helped her get in position, his gloved hand coming to lay between the snow and her cheek.

Despite the ice sinking into her, Rosaline felt a rush of unexpected warmth flush up her skin as she sensed Benvolio settle behind her, the heat and hardness of his body curling along the full length of hers. He maneuvered for a minute until his arm reached around hers, his fingers wrapping at the base of the saw and moving hers around until her grip was firm and just right. She felt anything but. "Good?" she asked shakily.

Instead of answering Benvolio moved her arm until the saw touched the base of the tree. "Right there," he said, his breath warm on her cheek. "Slow and steady. Careful."

She proceeded as instructed, using both arms to drag the saw back and forth across the trunk, with no visible effect whatsoever. She even doubted she'd made a scratch. Her arms felt like jelly, and Rosaline hoped Benvolio couldn't feel it. Her hyperawareness of him had nothing to do with attraction, she told herself; he was warm despite all logic, and she wanted to roll into him for survival, really.

"First time I tried this, it took me two hours," Benvolio said as he demonstrated his instructions, pushing the saw against the trunk and dragging it with patience and rhythm. Rosaline heard the teeth of the saw break the bark at last. "I was going at it too hard, and I tried pushing the tree over when it started leaning. _Bad_ idea," he insisted, and she felt him shudder as he shook his head behind her. "Slow and steady."

"Mmh." Rosaline did not like the sound of that, not with the way his body felt, nor with the unfortunate tendency people had around Christmas of mistaking the smallest inkling for some deeper feeling. If she started letting herself admit to such things, she was doomed.

She focused on the motion of the saw, and for several long minutes, it worked. It rubbed against her fingertips despite the barrier of fabric, and soon the sensation overwhelmed that of Benvolio's hand. When Amanda and Adelaide decided to wriggle their way underneath the branches for support, Rosaline felt relieved - it was much harder to think of Benvolio as nice and warm and _male_ with her nieces giggling and cheering them. She hushed them away for safety and soon enough, the combination of both her efforts - weak as they were - and Benvolio's expertise came to fruition.

He stopped her mid-motion with a gentle squeeze of her wrist. "Okay, now you can get back up and support the tree while I finish sawing through the last bit," he told her, as if it were so easy to crawl out from underneath the branches with the barrier of his body blocking her way. "Don't let it crush me, yeah?"

"I'll try my best," she promised, and crawled back up, closing her eyes for a second as she exhaled deeply. Luckily for her the girls were too busy singing Christmas carols to notice the way her lips curled upward foolishly; if Isabella or Juliet were here, they'd never let her live this down.

Men and Christmas didn't mix well; last Christmas had taught her well, she reminded herself.

Rosaline shook her head, then went to support the tree, fiddling to wrap her arms around a patch between the branches. She regretted not asking Benvolio _how_ exactly he expected her to keep the tree from burying him in the snow forever; the tree shook and wobbled as he quickly finished cutting. He emerged from the ground with snowflakes in his hair, looking perfectly at-ease. Easily he helped her straighten the tree and called out for the girls to admire their handiwork. "What do you think?" he asked them cheerfully, propping one hand against the tree and lifting the fingers of the other to his forehead in a salute. "Does this noble tree meet your high expectations?"

The girls looked at the tree, then at each other, and clapped their hands, their eyes shining brightly.

 

* * *

 

Upon announcing she didn't own any Christmas decorations for the tree, Rosaline truly felt like she was indeed living up to her Grinch reputation in the family. Adelaide and Amanda looked at her as if she'd grown a second head, and even Benvolio cocked his head to the side, eyeing her from head to toe.

There _were_ practical reasons, like the fact that they usually celebrated at Livia's house ever since the girls were born, or that she hadn't unpacked all of her belongings yet and that the one or two ornaments she owned were lost somewhere with old trophies from the debate club and worn-out hoodies. And the more personal reasons...neither her nieces nor Benvolio needed to hear them.

"I have some extra ornaments," Benvolio offered tentatively as the girls went to look for their colored pencils and glitter.

"Oh, do you now?" Rosaline chuckled as she slumped on her couch, draping one arm over her eyes. "How many decorations does one man need, really?"

He chuckled, too. "I don't _need_ them, yeah, but...the more the merrier, right? I think it does apply to Christmas decorations, too. I can lend you some, so the girls can have their magnificent tree."

Rosaline heaved a sigh. "I need to get back on track, go back to writing." Her gaze found the girls sitting at the kitchen counter, sipping milk while finishing the last of Benvolio's cookies and coloring, and she rubbed the spot between her brows where a headache was forming. "I don't have time for all of this right now. I'm becoming my own aunt."

Benvolio gave her an indulgent smile. "I don't know your aunt, but I presume she's the Grinch, first of her name?" Rosaline glared at him, and he dipped his head to hide his grin. "You're not that bad, really. You cut your own tree today!"

Rosaline peeked at him through one barely-open eye. "You and I both know that all I did was keeping you from cutting down that tree faster."

Benvolio shrugged one shoulder. "You did okay. The girls had fun and that's all that matters. If you want, I can bring the box here, help them decorate so you can work." He narrowed his eyes. "What do you do, anyway? I didn't even ask."

"I'm a journalist," Rosaline replied. "I have this big documentary I need to finish by next week and a total of zero line written so far. I really do want to spend time with the girls and make this Christmas magical for them, but..." She stood, brushing some remaining snow from her jeans.

"Say no more," Benvolio said, touching her arm. "We'll keep the music and giggles to a minimum, and I'm sure I can get you a couple of hours of work."

He looked at her with such earnest eyes Rosaline had a hard time coming up for any reason to say no. She didn't know him, and he was helping out so much. That would usually set up all of her alarm bells. And yet...

"I'm not making you thank-you cookies because I can't bake to save my life," she warned him. "And now every time the girls come here they'll probably ask to see you, and you'll have to come up with endless hours of fun for them. Understood?"

Benvolio was walking towards the girls already, and he grinned at her above his shoulder. "Is that a threat or a promise?" he called out, before he interrupted the girls' chatter with a "Who wants to help me decorate the tree?" that earned him mirrored extra-white smiles from Adelaide and Amanda.

Rosaline fled up the stairs to her office before he caught her grinning like a fool.

 

* * *

 

Her article was going somewhere.

Nowhere interesting or new, per se, but _somewhere_. Thanks to Benvolio, Rosaline had managed to work for a little over two hours uninterrupted, and she now had a general outline for her documentary, even if it was far from being her best piece. She'd sent a draft to Helena and felt she had earned and deserved a nice cup of tea and a bubble bath now.

Adelaide popped her head at her door, glitter lining the side of her jaw. "We need you for the star, Auntie Rose. And...Benvolio said he would take us out for cookies and hot cocoa if you needed more quiet. If you say yes."

Rosaline took off her glasses and pushed her chair back. "Come here, baby." Adelaide strode to her and she perched her on her lap. Out of the two, Adelaide resembled Rosaline the most. She had far too serious eyes for a seven year-old and was incredibly curious about everything. But she had Livia's soft smile, one that could always make Rosaline's heart melt. "How about _I_ take you all out for hot cocoa and cookies? Benvolio has been very nice, looking after you, and you two have been such good girls." She tugged at the end of Adelaide's plait, and the little girl's nose wrinkled. "I promise I'll spend more time with you tomorrow. We'll go bring soup to Auntie Juliet, and I'll help you make presents for your Mom and Dad. Thank you for being so nice."

Adelaide seemed to ponder this for a moment. "And Benvolio, too? He's _really_ nice."

"He is," Rosaline agreed. "But Benvolio surely has plenty of things to do on his own, okay? We shouldn't bother him too much." She brushed a finger along Adelaide's cheek, gathering glitter at the tip. "You and Amanda can make him a thank-you card, I'm sure he'll appreciate it."

Adelaide pouted, but didn't argue. Rosaline made a mental note to be extra generous with her last-minute Christmas shopping. Adelaide jumped off her lap and ran off, and Rosaline turned off her laptop and followed her downstairs, stopping short of the last step, her eyes blinking as her gaze fell upon her newly decorated living-room.

It was lovely and elegant in a way she hadn't expected from her glitter-enthusiast nieces and Benvolio's obvious love for shiny, over-the-top decorations. The tree was lined with silver garlands and golden ornaments, only missing a golden and white tree topper that Amanda was holding with careful hands. "Look, Auntie Rose!" she squealed as she saw her. "The house is pretty now!"

It was. While Benvolio had obviously worked on the tree mostly on his own, the girls had made snowflakes and gingerbread men and other drawings they'd hung all around the place - lining the kitchen counter, the walls, trailing a path of glitter everywhere. They looked at home, never once complaining about the fact that their parents weren't there, or that Rosaline had to work instead of playing with them, and the thought stung at the corners of Rosaline's eyes.

Benvolio noticed it, his gaze growing serious and concerned for a second before he schooled his face and put on a bright smile, clapping his hands. "Well, there you are. We were waiting for you for the star. You got a ladder?"

He held out his hand for her as she climbed, then held onto the ladder for balance. Rosaline heard the girls hold their breath as she added the final touch to their magnificent tree.

She climbed down and admired it too, the girls wrapping themselves at her sides. Maybe this Christmas wouldn't be that bad, after all.

 

* * *

 

By the time Rosaline and the girls arrived at Benvolio's cousin's coffee shop, Benvolio had already unloaded and put the tree into place.

It was a lovely place, Rosaline instantly thought: it was warm and cozy, half-coffee shop, half-bookshop, and looked straight out of one of Juliet's _Pinterest_ boards. Once she recovered from the flu, Rosaline would have to take her there. Rosaline berated herself for not wandering in her neighborhood sooner because this looked like the perfect place to try on new coffee flavors and write in peace, and it'd been sitting there all along, less than a five-minute drive away from her house.

...And she _knew_ the owner.

She hadn't made the connection until now, but seeing him, and the coffee shop, it rang a bell. There was no mistaking this was Romeo -

Benvolio spotted her, and waved at his cousin, gesturing him to come and meet her. Romeo gave her an open, warm smile as he shook her hand. "Hi. I'm Romeo -"

" _Montague_ ," Rosaline finished for him, to which he raised a surprised eyebrow at her. "One of my coworkers wrote a piece on your coffee shop when you opened, I just now remembered. Rosaline Capulet," she offered her name.

Benvolio's eyes widened almost comically. She bit on the inside of her cheek not to smirk. Romeo looked from his cousin to her, a mischievous gleam sparking in his eyes. "Oh, boy."

Adelaide frowned. "I don't understand," she said, "what's a montague?"

Romeo laughed. Benvolio's lips curved in a soft smile. "Yeah, what's a montague, Rosaline _Capulet_?" he turned the question over to her.

Adelaide's frown burrowed deeper between her brows, in that way children did when they thought someone was mocking them, or when they believed that adults were discussing something they weren't privy to. Rosaline stroked her hand over her forehead, brushing stray curls away. "Grandpappy Capulet and Grandpappy Montague didn't get along well," she explained. "Or, well, maybe it was _their_ grandpappies, nobody remembers well. Montagues and Capulets tend to stick to their own."

"That's _ridiculous_ ," Adelaide all but spat with all the indignation a seven year-old could muster. Amanda nodded her head in approval, though Rosaline doubted she'd followed a word of the conversation as her eyes had found the countless cookies exposed in the window at the counter and doubled in size.

"It is," Benvolio agreed, and it seemed to appease her. She set off to sit in a booth by the fireplace, Amanda following her.

Rosaline felt grateful her niece didn't go on on the matter. It _was_ stupid, that long-ass feud between their families. Ever since she'd been a little girl she'd been warned against Montagues for no other reason than their name and the fact that decades ago, a Capulet and a Montague, business partners and friends, had had a fight and a fallout about something no one could remember - though Rosaline's bet was on money theft or a woman. And even if Rosaline remembered being around Addie's age and finding it ridiculous, _too_ , their paths had just never crossed; she'd attended an all-girl school with her sister and cousin, dabbled in different social circles. Verona was a big town; both the Capulet and Montague clans were huge, with dozens of cousins to befriend and hang out with. The closest she'd ever gotten to a Montague had been at some dinner between politicians, entrepreneurs and contractors she'd attended with Escalus, where she'd sat near Damiano Montague, who had to be Romeo's father, and reckoned he bore the warning of his family name well. The man had been excessively syrupy, all the while boasting about his success in business and his legacy; at the time Rosaline had only listened absently, or else she would have remembered hearing him go on about his son going into business himself.

Romeo didn't look much like him; his smile was too earnest, too warm. Exactly like Benvolio's.

"Shall we?" Benvolio interrupted her thoughts, gesturing to the table the girls had chosen. "For a Montague, Romeo's pretty exceptional at baking," he grinned.

Rosaline rolled her eyes. "Will you just drop it," she shook her head, chuckling. "Montague devil."

"Capulet harpy," Benvolio laughed as he pulled out her chair for her, and did he stick his tongue out at her, really? He took hers and the girls' order and went behind the bar to make their drinks himself as if he were at home.

Romeo brought them a selection of cookies, then dropped himself in Benvolio's chair. "He only does this so he can add extra, _extra_ cinnamon in his hot cocoa, you know." He smiled at the girls. "Benvolio told me you helped him decorate a tree today, that was very nice of you."

" _He_ helped _us_ ," Amanda corrected him.

Rosaline had to bite the inside of her cheek not to laugh, least she offend her niece. Romeo gave Amanda a huge smile. "Oh, well, then. How would you like getting to decorate another tree?" He tipped his chin to the tree Benvolio had cut down for the place.

A group of children had formed around the tree beside which lay a couple of boxes of Christmas ornaments Rosaline hadn't noticed before. The girls needn't be asked twice; they sprung out of their seats, cookie crumbs still gathered at the corners of their mouths, and rushed to the tree.

Romeo turned his attention back to her. "So Benvolio tells me you're new to the neighborhood? If you need any help settling in, he's the man. He half-built this place with me."

"Really?"

Romeo nodded. "He's way better at following _Ikea_ instructions than I am. And he's always bringing me new customers, telling his students' parents about the place. And Capulets, too, apparently," he winked.

"There's a market there," Rosaline went on, "I mean, we Capulets make up for _half_ the population in this town, really."

Benvolio came back with hot cocoa for everyone, including his cousin. "Don't you have cookies and gingerbread to make?" he teased.

"Nah," Romeo grinned. "I've got you and the little elves for the tree, I deserve a break. Are you coming to the dinner on the 22nd, Rosaline?"

"Mmh, yeah, sure," Rosaline said. "This will be at least one dinner I won't have to cook for the girls, and if these cookies are any indication, they'll be grateful. Benvolio told me it was a charity dinner? That's amazing."

"His idea, my cooking skills," Romeo announced proudly.

Benvolio seemed to hide in his mug. Rosaline cocked an eyebrow at him. He hadn't mentioned the charity dinner was _his_ initiative. She let it go for the moment. "Well, count us in. I know a couple of girlfriends who'll be more than happy to spend one night out before all the Christmas and family madness."

"Ah, a Christmas skeptic," Romeo laughed. He clapped Benvolio's shoulder as he stood up. "Well, good luck with that one, cousin. Rosaline," he bowed, "a pleasure."

She returned his smile, then fell quiet as Benvolio kept sipping his hot cocoa. Rosaline watched the girls laugh with the other kids as they decorated the tree.

It wasn't like her to strike up relationships with people like this. She didn't know Benvolio; didn't even know his last name before she let him in her house, or let him decorate her living-room with her nieces. He was nice and full of surprises, and Rosaline wanted to trust her instincts about him.

And yet; the journalist in her wanted to know _more_.

"So you love Christmas, bring cookies to neighbors to welcome them to the community," she counted on her fingers, "and you happily look after children that aren't your own. And you're into charity. What's your dark secret, Benvolio Montague?"

He looked up from his mug, whipped cream covering the bow of his upper lip. Rosaline wanted to wipe it with her thumb. He noticed the way her gaze had dropped to his mouth, and dabbed at it with his napkin. "I don't think that I have one," he shrugged.

"Do you like Hawaiian pizza?"

He almost spilled his drink. "What?"

"Just answer the question, Montague." She crossed her arms, hoping to come off intimidating and powerful.

Benvolio's lips drew in a thin line as he leveled his gaze with hers. "No, ma'am. I do not like Hawaiian pizza, because I have too much respect for all the ingredients involved to do them the dishonor of ruining them by combining them."

Rosaline tilted her head to the side. "Mmh. Okay. So _that's_ not your dark secret."

"Why don't you like Christmas?"

He'd gotten her there, and he knew it. Rosaline drew her bottom lip between her teeth and fiddled with her mug. "It's not that I don't _like_ Christmas," she started. "I love Christmas shopping and dinner with my sister and her family, and all that."

"But?"

She sighed, then locked eyes with him. "But Christmas season hasn't always been jolly to me, that's all."

"Ah." He looked over at the kids, longing obvious in his eyes. "My parents died when I wasn't much older than the girls," he said quietly. "My uncle, Romeo's father, took me in. He's not exactly the fatherly type," he grimaced. "Still, there's not a day I'm not grateful for what he did."

Rosaline's heart collided painfully against her chest.

"When I turned sixteen, he meant for me to take a more active role in the family firm, but... It just wasn't my thing. We clashed a lot about it, until we found a compromise - he'd let me partake in the firm's charities and donations, and make himself look good with his noble, orphaned nephew leading up that department."

Benvolio heaved out a sigh, wiped a hand across his jaw. Rosaline's mouth felt dry. "You don't work for him anymore though, do you?"

He shook his head. "Hell no. I moved out when I was eighteen, but I never stopped with the charities."

Benvolio looked at her then, soulful: _what about you?_ He'd just shared some very intimate aspects of his life, Rosaline felt guilt creeping upon her at her insistence that he tell her his secrets - she was nowhere near ready to talk so openly, to him or anyone, really. It just wasn't in her nature. The people who'd known her all her life knew her enough not to push, to let her talk when she felt like it; she hadn't met anyone new in a long time, someone she would need to open up to all over again. The thought only was _terrifying_.

She was saved by Adelaide and Amanda running to them to get their hot cocoa.

Her fingers were burning from not reaching out to Benvolio.

 

* * *

 

"So you have a crush on a Montague, big deal," Juliet shrugged, then grabbed for the shawl that fell down her shoulder and rewrapped it tight around her. Her nose was red like Rudolf's, and her voice sounded strained and weak. Still, her cousin's sass came through.

Rosaline glared at her. "Will you keep it down," she shushed her. Her nieces were sprawled on Juliet's couch, watching a movie, while she and her cousin were in the small kitchen area, sipping tea while Rosaline attempted to make soup for the walking corpse that Juliet had become. "I do _not_ have a crush on him."

"You went on a date with the guy."

"It wasn't a date," Rosaline shook her head. "He helped out with the girls, we all went to get hot cocoa. None of this qualifies as a date. I might never see him again."

Juliet sighed heavily in a way a younger cousin should never do. "He lives right across you. And he likes you, that's obvious. Shush," Juliet waved her hand at her, "he _does_ , come on. No one volunteers to take care of someone's kids for no reason at all. Even less when said kids are your new neighbor's nieces whom you've never really talked to before. He likes you, and _you_ like him," she concluded, final.

Rosaline focused on stirring her tomato soup. "This is not one of your Hallmark movies, Jules."

Juliet sighed so loudly, she snorted. Rosaline cocked an eyebrow at her. "What's this about, Rose?" her cousin asked her, quiet, serious. "Your Christmas aversion, or your recent _men_ _can't be trusted_ mantra? You can't let Escalus rule over your life forever."

_She didn't_ , Rosaline thought. Her breakup with Escalus a year ago had hurt, true, and it'd been a blow to her certitudes, but she wasn't closed off to the idea of love.

Or was she?

"You know this isn't a good time for me," she said quietly.

Juliet nodded, and winced at the movement. "Yeah, I know. But maybe it's time to lay these ghosts of Christmas past to rest, don't you think?"

Juliet grabbed her arm and squeezed, just a couple of seconds, before letting go.

 

* * *

 

_to be continued_

 

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The house was too quiet.
> 
> Rosaline had never exactly been a rebellious kid, but even she knew that a quiet house was a sign for shenanigans happening. Addie had popped by her office earlier to ask if they could go ask Benvolio for some glue - how they had already used all their stock was beyond her - and now that she thought about it, Rosaline wasn't sure she'd heard the door open and close a second time.
> 
> It was hard to not see him every day with the way her nieces seemed bent on adopting him as their new favorite person.

"You remember my cousin Mercutio?"

Of course she did - Mercutio and the word _forgettable_ did not coexist in any plane of existence, even though Rosaline and he were mere acquaintances. Mercutio was fun, loud, and extravagant in a way that made him extremely endearing but also totally exhausting for someone like Rosaline who much preferred peace and quiet. "Yeah, why?"

Isabella was flicking through her phone. "Well, I told you Benvolio looked familiar, right? I looked him up, and here he is." She showed her a picture from Mercutio's Facebook page of her grinning cousin with both arms wrapped around a girl Rosaline didn't know, and Benvolio. "That was taken at Merc's thirtieth. I was there, I might have even talked to him. There was a lot of alcohol involved, though," Isabella amended, "so who knows. Anyway. I called Merc and he vouches for your guy."

"Not my guy," Rosaline sighed. As expected, Juliet, Isabella, and even Livia - who had been told the whole tale by Juliet - were huge fans of the Capulet and Montague alliance they'd concocted in their delirious minds. Both her sister and cousin felt like Christmastime was perfect for romance and new starts, while Isabella, who had the tiniest bit more consideration for her sensible mind, only pushed her to hang mistletoe above her bedroom door and invite Benvolio in.

As for Rosaline, she didn't have a single clue what to do.

There was no point denying anymore that she found him attractive; if her brain had fought the idea for a while, her body had been very much aware of him during their little chopping lesson. And it didn't hurt that he seemed to be an all-around great guy. Not for the first time, an insistent question nagged at the back of her head: _why don't you go for it?_

"Merc says he's great, but you already knew that," Isabella went on. "They've known each other for a long time, and he says he's one of the people he trusts the most. Which, by the way, is something I say about _you_ all the time. Trustworthy, loyal, caring -"

Rosaline held up her hand. "Fine, I see your point."

She sipped her wine slowly, her eyes wandering. Everywhere they landed, there was a piece of Benvolio: the tree, the dozens of drawings her nieces had made for him, the imprint of his cheerfulness as he sang carols with the girls and played with them. In a mere few days he'd blown all over her life, and she wasn't exactly sorry for it.

Isabella leaned over, resting her elbows on her knees, her fingers linked around her glass. "Listen, I know we've never really talked about...how things ended between you and my brother. I never wanted to pry, and the both of you aren't exactly big on talking, but..." She paused, and licked her lips. "Maybe it's time to break that Christmas curse. Talk about it."

Rosaline's lips twitched. It was, almost word for word, what Juliet had told her. They were both right, and she knew it. She'd spent too many years holding onto the hurt.

It was easier, in a way - who _was_ she without all of it?

After her parents had died in a car accident a week before Christmas when she was seventeen, the holiday season had never been the same. Then, a series of unfortunate events, from the most mundane to the most serious, had turned her grief over the season into sheer dread; sitting down for dinner with her aunt and uncle forever reminded her of her parents' absence, and just the year before, Escalus had made her feel like she wasn't _enough_.

"We didn't want the same things in life," Rosaline finally said.

Isabella frowned at that statement. Rosaline could see why; to an outsider, she and Escalus had been completely compatible, a power couple in the making. And to some extent, she'd believed it too, until that night a year ago when they'd both attended a cocktail party with town council members and one of them had congratulated her on her engagement to the young man who, everybody reckoned, would be mayor someday.

Rosaline hadn't _known_ herself to be engaged, though. And the fight she'd had with Escalus in the aftermath, after a couple of hours smiling like an idiot and thanking people for their compliments on her upcoming nuptials, had been the last outcome she'd expected from that night. Escalus hadn't understood how blindsided she felt; he'd argued that this was where they were going, was it not, so what did it change if he'd let a few council members think so; that it was time for them to stop being idealists who thought about changing the world more than they actually did anything to change it, that together, they could rule over the city, if they wanted. He'd taken her hand and she'd stepped back, and the rest of the argument was nothing but a blur in Rosaline's memory now. Escalus had this whole plan for them that he'd never shared with her, and all of a sudden a ring, a wedding, a family, and a career side by side, had felt suffocating.

He hadn't proposed properly, and she never had to say no.

 

* * *

 

The house was _too_ quiet.

Rosaline had never exactly been a rebellious kid, but even she knew that a quiet house was a sign for shenanigans happening. Addie had popped by her office earlier to ask if they could go ask Benvolio for some glue - how they had already used all their stock was beyond her - and now that she thought about it, Rosaline wasn't sure she'd heard the door open and close a second time.

It was hard to _not_ see him every day with the way her nieces seemed bent on adopting him as their new favorite person.

Finding the guestroom and the living-room empty, Rosaline crossed the street straight to Benvolio's door and rang the bell, only to be greeted several seconds later by none other than Amanda, O-shaped mouth closing tight upon seeing her.

"Oh, Rosaline, hey," Benvolio greeted her with an easy smile as she came in, and found her nieces, Benvolio, and Romeo, busy in the kitchen. "Finally taking a break, are you?"

His question was innocent, and the look in her nieces' eyes was anything but. It didn't take a genius to figure out that they must have told him that Rosaline had agreed to send them over for the afternoon while she worked. Rosaline knew she should probably scold them, remind them how dangerous this kind of behavior could be - but it was Christmas and she trusted Benvolio, and he and the girls obviously had had a good time, so... "Hi," she waved, taking a seat around the kitchen island.

And then her mouth fell open as she took her surroundings in.

Benvolio's house truly looked like the inside of Santa's workshop.

"It's something, uh?" Romeo laughed as he took in her round eyes. He was stirring something that smelled delicious, while Benvolio was making cookies with the girls. "Getting a head start on tomorrow's dinner. I'm trying one of Ben's mom's recipes."

He handed her the spoon and Rosaline brought it to her lips, biting down a moan as she tasted. Romeo grinned. "You need any help?" Rosaline offered.

"You can't cook," Amanda reminded her matter-of-factly, and Rosaline caught Benvolio ducking his head to hide his smile.

"I've made some progress," Rosaline half-heartedly whined. The girls didn't dignify her comment with any sort of reaction. "Okay, then. How may I be of assistance?"

Benvolio wiped his hands on his apron, and tilted his head to the living-room. "How good are you at napkin folding?"

Rosaline went to admire his handiwork. His coffee table was covered by two dozen star and tree-shaped napkins. "I have literally no skill whatsoever in that field, but I'm pretty great at following Youtube tutorials, if you have one."

Benvolio sat down beside her on the couch, putting his iPad before them on the coffee table. "It's not that hard, really." He started a video, then paused. "See? That's the tricky part. You have to give the triangles at the top and bottom a good crease, or else it keeps unfolding and it drove me nuts for over half an hour this morning."

Rosaline tried, and found herself a secret knack for napkin folding. It helped her clear her mind as she'd spent over two hours finalizing her article and still didn't quite like the general feel of it. Helena's advice of finding something else to write about kept echoing in her head, and Rosaline thought she'd found the perfect inspiration.

"Hey, so, I wanted to ask you something," she started. Benvolio looked up from an intricate knot, listening. "I was thinking of writing an article about your charity dinner. How would you feel about that?"

His face lit up. "That's a fantastic idea. The shelter needs more people involved in it and making donations. Any publicity is good publicity."

Rosaline smiled. She couldn't help thinking of what he'd told her about his uncle - how he'd thought he'd make himself look good, using his nephew for publicity. She didn't know the man, and perhaps she was judging him harshly, but she doubted he owned an ounce of the decency Benvolio showed. She'd looked him up - job conditioning - and if Damiano Montague was a successful businessman, he wasn't known for his niceness or his philanthropy. He, very much like her own uncle, put business and profit first - Capulets and Montagues at their finest. "Okay, well, I invited a couple of friends to come tomorrow, including my partner. She does all the filming. If Romeo's okay with it we could take a few shots, and I figured...we could ask you a few questions, if that's not too much?"

To her surprise, a flush rose up his neck, and if Rosaline didn't find him cute before, she found him even cuter now. He scratched at his nape nervously. "I'm not really good on camera. Romeo," he called out to his cousin, "tell her I'm no good on camera."

"He's no good on camera," Romeo agreed quickly. "He rambles, blushes. He looks constipated on his birthday pictures."

Benvolio grimaced. "Thanks for the help, man."

Romeo grinned, then returned to his cooking. Rosaline couldn't hold back her laughter, and Benvolio glared at her in faux-outrage.

They kept folding napkins, and Rosaline would have gladly spent the rest of the day doing just that if she didn't have a new article to write from scratch, three days from her deadline. No matter how inspired and motivated she felt now, it was still a feat in and out of itself. She made the girls promise they would help Romeo and Benvolio in their cooking preparations and come home soon, and Benvolio walked her to the door.

She lingered. It would be easy to thank him with dinner, despite her total lack of cooking skills, or to invite him over for a movie, to _say_ something -

but he beat her to it.

He leaned at the threshold, shoulder against the doorframe, fingers twitching at his side. He curled them at his belt loop to stop them, and Rosaline couldn't help following the gesture with her eyes. "I usually help Romeo out in the kitchen, busy night and all, but I was thinking maybe we could catch up afterwards? Maybe watch a movie or something?"

"Or something," Rosaline smiled. "A follow-up interview with popcorn and marshmallows. I'm very thorough like that."

Benvolio chuckled. "Who am I to interfere with your process, then," he laughed.

Rosaline gave him a one-shoulder shrug before she rose on her toes, watching Benvolio's eyes widen as she pressed a peck to his cheek. "Thanks for watching the girls. I'll make it up to you."

She caught a glimpse of heat flaring at his skin before she left, and bit the inside of her cheek not to turn back and follow that trail of flush with her lips.

 

* * *

 

"More eye shadow," Addie insisted after she'd stared at her for a long minute, assessing.

Rosaline resisted the urge to roll her eyes. "We're going out to dinner with Aunt Juliet and Izzie and Helena, Addie, not to Cinderella's ball." She applied her mascara and lightly dabbed red on her lips. "Though I do think you look like a princess."

Adelaide opened her arms and twirled around, her tutu skirt waltzing with her. She'd adorned a red sweater with a sequined reindeer, green tights, and glittery sneakers. Amanda was still searching through her suitcase, torn between wearing her Elsa costume or some more traditional Christmas attire. Even Rosaline had made an effort and found an old, red dress she hadn't worn in years.

Her phone rang, and Addie's eyes sparked. "It's Mommy!" she squealed as she made a grab for it and answered. "Mommy! We're going out with Auntie Rose and Auntie Juliet!" She went on to describe her outfit, then everything she'd done with Benvolio since the day before when Livia had called. Amanda rushed in the room, trying to grab for the phone, but Rosaline caught her and sat her on her lap to finish her half-made Elsa braid.

The girls were extra excited to go out now that Juliet had recovered enough to join them. Isabella and Helena were picking her up on their way to Romeo's place, and even though Juliet had already warned that she was most likely to doze off on her seat long before the girls' sugar high ran its course, she was still feeling better enough to partake in the holiday fun.

Rosaline was glad. With Juliet there, she felt a little less guilty working with Helena, and, well, if their favorite godmother could work as a good enough distraction to allow her some stolen moments with Benvolio...

She followed Addie's advice and added a touch of eye shadow to her lids. It couldn't hurt.

 

* * *

 

Romeo's coffee shop was _the_ place to be tonight.

"Wow," Juliet said in awe as she shimmied into the corner booth marked _reserved_ that Romeo had kept for them. "I love this place."

"I knew you would," Rosaline gave her a smile. "There's a whole section of poetry on that shelf right there. It's like this place was built for you."

The gleam in Juliet's eyes as she took everything in equaled the one in the girls' as they dashed around, finding playmates in no time. The place was packed with all kinds of people, families, shy teenagers on a date, and friends; Rosaline hadn't noticed the coffee shop was so big before.

"It's not, really," Mercutio informed her as he came to take their order. He was wearing an elf costume, hat and pointed ears and all, and really, it should be illegal for a grown man to look so good in that kind of ridiculous outfit, Rosaline thought. "Romeo made a deal with the restaurant next door. There's an old revolving door between the places, so for tonight they're working as one place. The cooking takes place there since Romeo doesn't have the room or equipment here, and Romeo and Ben take care of all the organization. People can come and go between the two."

"And you were forced to don an elf uniform, you poor thing," Isabella fake-pitied him, raising her phone to snap a picture of him.

Mercutio instantly gave her a bright smile and struck a pose, hand on his hip. "You're kidding, right? I look _fantastic_ in these tights. I mean, come on, take a closer look," he said, serious, as he lifted his leg and wriggled his foot at her face, "my legs look skinnier than yours. Make sure to tag me on Facebook, I bet I'll find myself a New Year's date in no time."

"I'm surprised you don't have one yet," snickered Helena.

Mercutio shrugged. "Keeping my options open, girl, always. Anyway, you're the new girlfriend," he said matter-of-factly as he turned his attention to Rosaline. "Good for you, he's a catch."

"Benvolio and I aren't dating."

" _And_ yet you instantly knew which cousin I was referring to," he grinned like a wolf. When she glared at him he sobered, if only a little, and finally wrote down their order and went to the next table, turning on the charm button all over again for a bunch of gawking single ladies.

By the time Mercutio came back with their first round of drinks and they downed them in no time (albeit Juliet stuck to hot cocoa with lots of honey with the kids), Rosaline and Helena decided to start going around shooting and interviewing people. Most people were regulars, who partook in the event since the very beginning; some others had come thanks to the publicity the head of social media at the Tribune had launched after Rosaline and Helena's boss had agreed to the switch of topics. They were still meant to work on the Mantua piece, but had been granted a couple of weeks delay; the appeal of a nice Christmas story of solidarity and peace to men had convinced their boss enough.

Rosaline had to admit that she was happy about the change. She'd focused her career on politics pieces, but social issues had always mattered to her, and she missed working in that field. Helena took candid pictures of kids playing together, neighbors meeting and finally getting to know each other, couples spending their first Christmas together; people from the shelter, to which the takings of the night would go to, enjoying a night of celebration.

And then Rosaline caught a glimpse of a Santa hat belonging to the man of the hour. Benvolio had spent a large part of the evening helping in the kitchen, and was now donning a little white apron like the other waiters; he'd been up on his feet for the past three hours, and still shot everybody a radiant smile.

Helena had her camera pointed at _her_. "The look in your eyes right there," she teased. "I can see it already: _how a Montague made me fall in love with Christmas_ , by Rosaline Capulet, followed next year by _the Montague who loves me, and baby makes three_."

"Not you too," Rosaline sighed. Benvolio was chatting up with some kids with the same ease he seemed to have around just anybody. His laughter at something one of the kids had said was genuine, as was the glimmer in his eyes.

It didn't hurt that when he laughed, he looked devastatingly handsome.

Rosaline ran her hand down the skirt of her dress, smoothing the fabric. Helena smirked, but didn't say a thing. "Okay, come on. We need some shots of him. Make sure to get Romeo and the restaurant owners, too."

Rosaline made her way to Benvolio, grabbed the pompom of his hat and tugged at it. He turned around, shooting a bright smile at her. "Hey, you," he said, smooth, as he took her in. His eyes lingered just a second at her neckline and down the hem of her dress before locking back with hers. His gaze held appreciation and heat. "You look great."

"You look festive," Rosaline countered. His outfit was less exuberant than Mercutio's - black pants and red shirt and bow tie - and confirmed men's inner sexiness as part of Santa's elite team. "You got a minute for a sit down?"

Benvolio looked around nervously. "Your friend with the camera isn't gonna be there the whole time, is she?"

Rosaline linked her arm through his, leading him to two unoccupied armchairs. "Nah. We decided that constipated wasn't a good look with that hat." He tried to pinch her side but she dodged his hand. "Relax. Helena's mostly getting shots of everyone, we're going for candid. We might just need you to smile and say your name to the camera at some point. My interviews are mostly for the article. I need to build a story."

Benvolio nodded. "Okay. What do you need to know?"

"Well, it's more about what you're okay with sharing," Rosaline explained. "I have a story here, okay. I've got this great guy who wants to do some good, organizes this whole dinner, and I've got a couple of businessmen who partake in it and give out all the night's takings to a charity. But people - what?" she paused upon noticing his smile grow wider. "What are you smiling about?"

"You said I was great," Benvolio teased, his smile far sexier than it'd been with patrons a moment ago. The faint pink tinting his cheeks as he boasted made him even cuter, the handsome devil. "Okay, I'm serious now," he amended as she stared pointedly at him.

Rosaline clapped her hands. "People are gonna want to know more about _you_ , as a person. And Romeo. The readers are gonna relate to you in a way they aren't used to, what with your family's legacy and business."

"Nobody's used to hearing the words _Montague_ and _charity_ ," Benvolio agreed. "I see your point. Well, you can just say whatever you need. I mean, perhaps you should avoid the whole part about the orphaned nephew and all, but other than that..." He shrugged. "Ask me questions, I'm shit at talking about myself. Really."

She had a list of questions at the ready; why charity, why the shelter, did he think he would have taken such an interest in helping others if he hadn't lost his parents, and on and forth. But these questions felt wrong somehow, here and now, surrounded by cheerfulness and festivities. Revealing such things about himself was an intimate, vulnerable affair, one that could not happen in the middle of his cousin's workplace. Those questions Rosaline could keep for later; maybe tonight, as he came home with her. For now though...

"Women are gonna fall all over you," Rosaline said, grinning as he blushed. "Nice, kind-hearted guy. My readers will _demand_ to know if they can daydream about you, or if your heart's taken."

It'd started off light and teasing, but Rosaline suddenly felt her throat clench and her heart beat faster as she waited for his answer.

He was nice to _everyone_ ; what if she'd misread the signs, what if -

"Well," he licked his lips and ran a hand through his unruly hair. His eyes found hers, so impossibly blue, she bit her tongue. "I don't want to sound presumptuous, but...I'm hoping for a sort of love epiphany on Christmas Eve. You know, great smile, red bow, underneath the Christmas tree." He tried for smooth and husky, but ended up half-snorting as he laughed. "Please do _not_ quote me on that."

Rosaline's face hurt as she couldn't help smiling. "Don't worry about it. I never give my readers an info without investigating further, so... _We_ 'll have to settle on your relationship status before going to press."

The look he gave her was nothing but predatory, and Rosaline assumed it had to mirror hers. Her teeth played with her bottom lip, and her fingers itched to get him rid off his bowtie and dance along the buttons of his shirt.

 _'Tis the season_ , after all, she reasoned.

"Uh, Romeo's looking for me, I think," Benvolio said, gulping hard. The last time Rosaline had checked, Romeo was chatting up her cousin, but she let it slide. "But, we'll just do the rest at your follow-up interview, right?"

She nodded and he took off, and Rosaline threaded her fingers through her hair, letting out a heavy sigh.

She was _so_ not lasting another couple of hours.

 

* * *

 

Amanda, Adelaide, and Juliet, were snoring loudly in their booth an hour later.

Juliet's face had regained some color but she was still weak from the flu, and a whole night out had been premature; the girls had been running around all night and Rosaline was surprised they'd lasted that long. Isabella and Helena each wrapped one of Juliet's arms around their shoulders. "We're getting that one home, but you keep the munchkins. I am _not_ waking up in the middle of the night for a bottle," Isabella whined.

Rosaline rolled her eyes. "You do realize Mandy is three _years_ too old for night bottles? She eats cereals in the morning like anybody else."

"If you say so. Come on, sleeping beauty," Isabella said softly to a sleepy Juliet who seemed in and out of it in a matter of seconds.

"See you tomorrow for the final shot," Helena told Rosaline as she kissed her cheek. "And...enjoy your night." She winked over her shoulder as they exited the coffee shop.

Rosaline considered her options as she looked at the girls. Amanda was drooling a bit on Adelaide's shoulder, and they were definitely past the age Rosaline could carry the both of them to her car. Maybe she could find Benvolio and ask him for a little help, then thank him with the promise of wine and marshmallows and a midnight kiss...

Some people had already started clearing out, mostly families with young kids dozing off in their parents' arms. It was easier to spot Benvolio among the crowd now than it'd been a couple of hours earlier; he was clearing tables with Mercutio and two others waitresses, smiling at the people who came to thank him or say goodnight.

Rosaline wove her way through the departing customers until she reached Benvolio. "Hey. The girls got a little head start on their night, so I'm gonna get them home and tuck them in bed." She rested her hand on his arm, felt his muscles flex beneath her touch. "You're still on for tonight? I'm sure I can find some Hallmark movie you can cry about."

"It's not my fault if I love happy endings," he stuck out his tongue at her. "I think Romeo can manage, so I'll be there soon, okay? I just have some people I need to say hello to before leaving."

A waitress passed by and Benvolio reached for Rosaline, his hand curling at her hip as he moved her aside. Rosaline could feel the warmth of his fingers seep through the fabric of her dress, and a thrill ran through her as he slowly moved his hand to her lower back. The skin-to-skin contact, as her dress dipped low at her back, set her aflame.

She gripped his arm tighter.

"Hey, watch out, kids," Mercutio's voice came from behind them, "Mistletoe!"

Rosaline looked up at the same time as Benvolio tipped his head down. He was so close she could count his eyelashes. She could almost taste his mouth.

"Rosaline?"

Rosaline drew back as if she'd been burned. Benvolio frowned as she turned her head so fast, it almost spun.

"Escalus?"

 

* * *

 

_to be continued_

 

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She went to bed hurt and disappointed, and woke up in the morning feeling annoyed but determined.
> 
> She wasn't going to let him brood over a past love that had decided to come unexpected at the very moment she might have found a new one. She wasn't going to let Benvolio slip away like that. She wasn't going to let this Christmas be ruined, not when she'd finally gotten into the cheery, hopeful spirit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and here it is, the final chapter to this cheesy, corny, Christmas story! hope you enjoyed!

She couldn't believe Escalus was here. What was he _doing_ here?

Benvolio let go of her and she instantly missed the warmth of his hand against her back. If anything, the look in his eyes as he went from her to Escalus was chilly.

"Rosaline?" he spoke her name like a question, almost a plea.

Rosaline prided herself in being a cool, calm and collected person. When Livia and Paris had eloped on a whim after her aunt and uncle had put so much stress on her sister, she'd been the one appeasing everyone and dealing with her aunt's theatrics. She was the one her friends called for advice or help.

In that moment though, Rosaline felt nothing but _helpless_ as her past and present collided in full force.

"I'm gonna deal with him, okay?" Rosaline said, trying to sound confident though she failed miserably. "I'll see you at home."

She grabbed his elbow and squeezed, but Benvolio was still staring at Escalus. Escalus had the decency to say nothing as she gestured him out after one last look at her sleeping nieces and Mercutio's word that he was looking after them.

It was freezing outside, but Rosaline's anger was keeping her warm all of a sudden. "What are you doing here? How do you even _know_ I was here tonight?" she asked him. "I can't believe you just showed up like that."

Escalus was looking down at his feet. "You showed up on my Facebook feed. Izzie's pictures." She crossed her arms and stared at him, waiting, and he looked up at last. "I know this might sound stupid, but... I've been wanting to talk to you so many times, but you shut me down every time."

The last private conversation they'd had had been on the day she'd moved out of the condo they shared. Rosaline had seen him in the past year, of course; it was hard to be a political journalist and not cross path with Escalus Prince, the young sensation in Verona. But she'd managed to leave every interview before he could utter a single, personal word. "There's nothing left to say."

"We were together for three years, Ros," he argued. "Don't we at least owe it to each other to try and talk?" Rosaline pressed her lips tight, and Escalus took it as an invitation to go on. "I remember how much you love _Love Actually_ and that Andrew Lincoln character. The one with the cardboards. And I figured since it's Christmas, I ought to be honest with myself and you."

Rosaline hopped on one foot then the other. The shoes she was wearing made wonders for her legs, a fact that she hoped Benvolio would notice and appreciate; they were terrible to stand on out in the still snow-covered ground. "And you waited a whole year for some romantic, movie gesture. Great," she rolled her eyes. "Honesty sounds just as good in March or August, you know."

He took a step towards her, and she stopped him with her hand. "I was wrong, pushing my agenda on you like that," he went on. He sounded genuine, but it was too little too late - way too late. "I've always had this whole plan figured out, for my life and my career. I thought you and I saw eye to eye on that, and it was wrong of me to assume I could just go and spring that kind of bullshit on you."

"Finally, something we both agree with."

Escalus took the blow pretty well, never averting his gaze. "That's not true and you know it. There are - there _were_ plenty of things we agreed on. I was wrong to spread the word of our engagement like that and I'm sorry -"

Rosaline shook her head. He was _unbelievable_. "You know, this is the first time you've _actually_ apologized for that. We were together for three years. _Three years_. You could have proposed before that party. You could have proposed _any_ time. But no. You told some old lady that we were engaged because it suited _you_ , because it would make you look good. You didn't think about _me_ when you did that." She thought she'd let go of the anger in favor of the hurt, but obviously not. "You _used_ me, Escalus. You thought that a pretty wife and a bunch of kids would be good for your future campaign."

"I wanted to marry you because I love you," he interrupted her. She tried to argue but this time it was his turn to hold up his hand. "Wait a minute, listen. I _love_ you, Rosaline. I loved you then and I love you now, I've just been too much of a coward to act on it." He rubbed the heels of his palms into his eyes in exhaustion, and he looked younger then, like the boy she knew in high school instead of the young politician he was now. That was the thing with Escalus; sometimes he looked and felt like an entire different person, the one he'd crafted to please everyone, to earn people's favors and votes. She'd been his counterpart on that front; a writer with a way with words that could aim straight for the heart or cut someone off at the knees. "Did I think it was the right move for us?" he went on. " _Yes_. Did I think it would be good for my career? _Also_ yes. The Rosaline I knew would have understood that."

Rosaline wanted to pull at her hair. She looked back at Romeo's coffee shop, wondering what Benvolio was up to. She didn't look forward to the conversation they were going to need to have. "I'm still the Rosaline you knew. You just didn't know me that well, apparently, because there's no way in hell that I would have ever been okay with you making decisions for me like this is the sixteenth century. I don't know what you expected from tonight, I really don't." She made to turn, then spun on her heels. "Actually, I think I do. You thought that you could win me back with smooth words, but the thing is? I'm not some price to be won, Escalus. Never have been. I thought you knew that."

"Is it because of that guy?" Escalus tipped his chin to the coffee shop. There was sheer male jealousy laced in his curiosity.

For a brief moment Rosaline wondered if she would react the same way, were she to learn that Escalus was dating someone. It didn't matter; she'd never move on if she kept processing everything through that lens. She pushed the thought aside and exhaled slowly, then fixed her gaze to his. "Listen to me very carefully, Escalus." Her voice was firm, even though she didn't want to hurt him. She simply needed him to let it go. Let _them_ go. "It's only because you and I loved each other once upon a time that I am _not_ slapping some sense into you right now. How I move on with my life and whom I decide to move on with is none of your business. Please refrain from coming up for a talk every time your sister tags me on social media."

His lips pressed tight, but he said nothing. There really was nothing left to be said between them. She'd loved him and he'd loved her, but they hadn't been meant for each other; one way or another there would have been something coming up between them, and Escalus would have chosen the path that was best for him. He'd always done that.

"I'm sorry, Rosaline," he said, final. "If anything, I really am."

Rosaline nodded grimly. "Yeah, me too. It sucks that it had to end so badly." He reached for her hand and she let him this time. She gave it a brief squeeze before letting go. "Merry Christmas, Escalus."

And then she went back inside without a second thought. Her future was waiting right ahead.

 

* * *

 

Benvolio was nowhere to be seen.

Mercutio was drinking coffee at their booth, the girls still sound asleep. "Where's Benvolio?" she asked him, perhaps too bluntly, if the dark look on Mercutio's face was any indication.

He slowly lowered his mug. "What did my charming cousin want?" he asked in turn.

Rosaline winced, then sat facing him. The perks of living in a city where everybody was somewhat related. "He just wanted to talk," she said, crossing her arms over the table. Mercutio rose an eyebrow, and she realized how defensive it looked. She ran her hand through her hair. "I guess he wanted _more_ than a talk but I'm not here for that. He and I belong in the past."

Mercutio gave her a curt nod. "Benvolio's helping Romeo clean up the kitchen. If I were you, I'd let him cool down."

"Cool down?"

Mercutio shook his head dismissively. "You're a bright one, Capulet. Don't pretend. What do you think it looked like to Ben, seeing you go off with another man just seconds before you guys kissed? Talk about bad timing, you only see that in bad movies."

"There's nothing going on with -"

" _I_ know there's nothing going on with Escalus," Mercutio interrupted her. "To be honest I never thought you two were a good match. Well, I don't think he's a good match with anyone but his career." He shrugged. "Anyway. _Ben_ doesn't know that. And knowing him, he's out there thinking he misread the signals and beating himself up for it. Let him cool down."

Rosaline pondered Mercutio's words. She didn't want to let the night end like this - all she wanted was to go talk to Benvolio, tell him nothing happened with Escalus, and resume their earlier activities. It felt wrong, going home without seeing him. On the other hand, he and Mercutio were best friends, and Mercutio certainly knew him better than she did - if he thought it was a better idea to let it go at the moment...

"You tell him I'll be waiting up for him, okay? When he's all done here." She chewed on her lip until Mercutio nodded his assent.

He helped her out with the girls, picking Adelaide up in his arms with ease and carrying her to Rosaline's car as she did with Amanda. Mercutio squeezed her shoulder as he bid her goodnight, and Rosaline sat in her car, eyes fixed on the bay window.

Benvolio came out of the kitchen mere moments after he heard her leave.

Rosaline regretted not going back in the moment she pulled out of the parking lot.

 

* * *

 

He didn't show up.

Rosaline didn't truly believe Benvolio would come over, but still - no news at all, no apologetic text or fake excuses to ditch their movie night, it _stung_. She'd waited up for over an hour before she dozed off on the couch, and when she woke up with an aching neck hours later his car was still not there.

She went to bed hurt and disappointed, and woke up in the morning feeling annoyed but _determined_.

She _wasn't_ going to let him brood over a past love that had decided to come unexpected at the very moment she might have found a new one. She wasn't going to let Benvolio slip away like that. She wasn't going to let this Christmas be ruined, not when she'd finally gotten into the cheery, hopeful spirit.

The girls asked about him the moment Rosaline told them she needed them to be nice and quiet since she now only had two days left to finish her documentary. "Can we go play at Benvolio's?"

Rosaline knew she _should_ probably remind them that Benvolio didn't have to look after them all the time. Then again, it didn't agree well with her plan to not let him end things between them before they could even begin. "Sure," she agreed, and watched the girls dash around, grabbing their things and heading to the street before she could even put on her shoes.

Adelaide and Amanda were already at Benvolio's door when she showed up. Benvolio let the girls in, and looked about to close the door on her. "Hey," she stopped him. "Thanks for watching them. I know I'm asking too much."

Benvolio's gaze turned to the girls, who were already spilling their bag's content of crayons and glitter on his coffee table. His smile faltered when he turned back to her. "I don't think I could say no, really, they're basically living here now and I'm just visiting."

He made to get back in but Rosaline grabbed his sleeve. His eyes went from her fingers to her face, unreadable. "You got home late last night, didn't you? I was sort of hoping we could take a rain-check on our movie night...tonight?" She steeled her spine against his rejection; the hesitation flicking across his eyes felt even worse. "If you're not too busy, that is."

Benvolio tugged at an invisible speck of fluff on his sweater. "I'm on gift-wrapping duty," he said, "for the people at the shelter. And I'm playing the piano at the Christmas party, so I should probably work on that, too. Busy time of the year, and all."

Rosaline nodded. She released his sleeve at last and linked her fingers together. "Yeah, sure. I get it." She wanted to tell him about Escalus, how there was _nothing_ to tell; but her big plan sounded stupid all of a sudden. It was pretty obvious that Benvolio was upset, and playing coy wouldn't change that. "Catch up after Christmas?"

He nodded, non-committal. His lack of enthusiasm, or obvious, fake-polite rebuttal, was a sharp twist in her gut.

He called her back as she reached his fence. In a ridiculous flash of hope, her breath caught. The way he looked at her, for real this time, kindled the tiniest spark of optimism in her. "Good luck on your writing," he wished her before closing the door behind him.

She needed it. If Rosaline wanted to tell this story _right_ , she needed it.

 

* * *

 

Her group chat was buzzing off so often, Rosaline feared her phone might just jump off her desk.

Isabella was _furious_ that her brother had gone and ruined her and Benvolio's almost-kiss, and even more aggravated that he'd thought that showing up after a year was a good idea; she was partial to Mercutio's advice, and though she never agreed nor disagreed with him, she was annoyed with the men in her family in general and claimed that she had no time for them. Livia, who lived the whole thing vicariously through them and their own reactions went through all stages and was confused, annoyed, and yet still very hopeful that they would patch things up. Juliet, who'd emerged from her slumber confused at how she'd gotten home the night before, kept sending inspirational quotes and poetry lines that she believed would help Rosaline find the perfect words to explain the whole situation to Benvolio. Helena, who'd stopped pretending she wasn't invested in the whole thing, offered that Rosaline should just show up at Benvolio's door and kiss him hard on the mouth rather than spend hours ruminating over the missed opportunity.

Rosaline didn't respond much. Not because she didn't appreciate her friends' help and insight, but because she couldn't stop writing. Helena had sent her the video clips she'd worked on and they were great; she wanted her article to be just as good. For hours she wrote about the Montague boys and their involvement in charity, about the shelter and the people running it, and the people she'd met the night before. She wrote about men and women and families who didn't feel like they belonged in Verona anymore, who'd lost everything, who were trying to piece their lives back together. This was the kind of story she'd wanted to become a journalist for, a piece about the people, for the people.

It was also the first time her carefully crafted writing voice had laced so intimately with her own. It had been impossible to separate the writer from the woman, and as she reread her article, Rosaline didn't think that was such a bad thing after all. She was a storyteller who'd fallen for the subject of her story, or more exactly, there wouldn't have been any story if she hadn't let her heart decide for once.

It was a thrill as much as it was absolutely terrifying.

Rosaline was no stranger to doing the things that scared her, though.

 

* * *

 

Rosaline went to answer the door and got engulfed in a tight, fluffy hug.

" _Livia_?" she squeaked, her sister's embrace knocking the air out of her lungs. She looked up from the fluff of Livia's coat hood and spotted Paris on her doorsteps, balancing both their suitcases, and Juliet. "What are you guys doing here? _How_ did you get here?"

"Livia's sheer willpower," Paris said, amazed. "Really. She made the snow melt, I don't know. Planes still weren't allowed to fly but we drove out and found another airport. Crazy story, we took like three different flights to get here, and -"

"Where are the girls?" Livia asked, interrupting her husband. "We'll tell them later, babe, I want to see my babies."

Rosaline nodded at the staircase. "They're getting ready to see Auntie Juliet, actually. We were supposed to come at your place so you could rest," she addressed Juliet, slightly accusatory. "You're supposed to be in bed, missy."

"It's their fault!" she pointed at Livia and Paris. "Besides, I'm wearing my ugliest, warmest Christmas sweater, I'm ready to just drop on your couch and watch movies with Addie and Mandy while you three adults make me dinner."

The girls appeared at the top of the stairs. "Auntie Rose, have you seen my Elsa -" Amanda stopped mid-question as she spotted her parents, her eyes growing huge and shiny. She grabbed her sister's hand and ran down the stairs with an excited chorus of "Mommy!" and "Daddy!" as they flung themselves at Livia and Paris. Livia cupped their faces and brushed their hair away, scrutinizing them closely as if they'd grown ten inches or aged three months in the mere couple of weeks she and Paris had been gone. Amanda slipped out of her embrace and latched onto her father's leg. Paris lifted her easily in his arms and flung her over his shoulder to the little girl's delight.

"Okay, let's move this party inside, shall we?" Rosaline suggested, guiding them to the living-room. "I made soup. I guess I'll just make some more."

Juliet tried to follow her to the kitchen but Rosaline steered her back to the couch so she could rest. Livia joined her soon after, once her inspection of her daughters seemed to satisfy her. "You were great with the girls, sis. Really. They had a great time with you. Thank you." She retrieved a chopping board and helped her with the carrots. "That Benvolio seems to have made a great impression. Addie asked me if we could invite him over for dinner."

Rosaline's chopping halted. She turned to her sister, feeling guilty. "I shouldn't have let them go to his place so often, they'll be disappointed now."

Livia studied her, wearing her wise, married woman game face on. Rosaline tried not to squirm underneath her gaze. "He doesn't sound like the kind of guy who will just drop off the surface of the earth just because your ex cock-blocked you."

"You don't know him," Rosaline sighed. "And you didn't see his face yesterday. He could barely look me in the eye."

"He's wounded, typical male," Livia shrugged off her concern. "And you're over-thinking this whole Escalus thing. He doesn't need to know all the details, you just need to show him that _he_ 's the one you're interested in."

"I thought little sisters were only wise beyond their years in your cheesy movies."

Livia clucked her tongue. "Stop mocking my movies. They taught me that everything ends well at Christmas. Or begins. You should go see him."

"Like, _right now_ ," Juliet's voice made them both lift their heads, only noticing now that their cousin had joined them. She propped herself on a bar stool, leaning heavily on the kitchen counter. It was hard taking her seriously when she still looked like death warmed over. "Come on, Rose. I'm rooting for you guys."

"You just think this whole Capulet and Montague's forbidden love thing is romantic and _epic_."

"Well, it is, duh," Juliet laughed. "And it's _Montapulet_. It'll be trending soon." She paused, her grin turning more wistful. "I mostly think I haven't seen you this happy in a long time. It looks good on you."

Livia nodded eagerly. Juliet pinned her with her gaze. "Okay, fine," Rosaline put down her chopping knife. "I'll call him tomorrow before we go to your mom and dad's."

Juliet shook her head. "Nuh-uh. You go now."

"You guys just got here," Rosaline argued.

"And we'll still be there in an hour," Livia countered. "Or we could just go see him with you. Ask Addie to ask him out for you, it'll be adorable."

Rosaline glared at her sister and cousin, then went to grab her purse and car keys.

 

* * *

 

Benvolio didn't see her as she got to Romeo's place.

He was playing the piano with a little boy who was more focused on watching Benvolio's fingers than his own, and Rosaline got the chance to listen to him play for real. It was something else than catching snippets of a tune carried out across the street. His fingers danced across the key notes seamlessly, and everybody around seemed enthralled by the music.

Rosaline bit her bottom lip. This was definitely her _just a girl standing in front of a boy, asking him to love her_ , moment. Except that unlike Julia Roberts, there was a room full of people for whom Benvolio had organized this party who deserved a whole night that was about them as their unwilling audience.

She put on a brace face, a bright smile, and retied the red bow she'd stolen from a decoration outside around her waist. And then she marched to Benvolio.

To his credit, he only missed a note before he steadied his hands and resumed his playing. "Can we talk?" Rosaline pleaded. "Without a piano between us."

His eyes flicked up to her for a brief second. "I'm kind of in the middle of something right now, Rosaline."

"Okay," she sighed, then splayed her hands on top of the piano as she leaned in, careful to keep her voice down. "I'll talk, then. It's over between Escalus and I, and -"

"You don't owe me any explanation," he cut her off, sounding dull. "I thought there was something going on between us and there isn't, no harm done."

"You do realize you're as cute as you are blind, right?" That time Benvolio missed two notes, and the little boy sitting at his side slipped off the bench with one last weird look at her and Benvolio. Benvolio looked up at her for real, and Rosaline softened her scowl. "This is me telling you that Escalus and I broke up a _year_ ago. He wanted to talk and I listened to him. It doesn't mean there's anything between us. Which would look obvious to anyone else _but_ you, since I waited for you at home and went to see you yesterday and tried to tell you I _liked_ you right before you basically shut your door on my face."

He gulped and she wanted to slap him or kiss him, she wasn't sure which, or in which order.

She opened her purse and grabbed for her copy of her article. "Here," she said as she spread it on the piano. "This goes to press in two days. All of Verona will know what you apparently can't see, so time to catch up."

His eyes focused on the paper in a blur. Rosaline pressed her lips shut. In her mind, this was _supposed_ to work. She'd poured everything into her article; how everyone around her called her the Grinch, how she had never been one to fall prey to the easy magic and charm of the season right until someone made her realize that peace and joy and goodwill to men weren't just words strung up together in a song. Most of her article focused on the charity and the shelter, all the good it did and how people could help more, but it didn't take a genius to read between the lines and see that Benvolio had inked himself through every sentence.

"And I'm wearing a red bow," Rosaline added as she walked around the piano, spreading her arms and leaning her hip against it so he could see. "I mean, I can't be any _more_ obvious."

He pushed her paper away, and nodded his head. "You could go and lay underneath the Christmas tree," he said, grinning, as he stood. "That was the whole package deal." Any trace of sulkiness and hurt feelings was gone. _That_ was a good look on him.

"I could," Rosaline smiled as he leaned closer. "But _no_. Needles, they get everywhere. It's like sand. I'm not into that."

His fingers cupped her jaw softly. "And what are you into, Rosaline Capulet?" His voice was low, just above a whisper.

It was an eye rolling-worthy line, really, except Rosaline was too busy fighting off the urge to grab him by his shirt and drag him home, so... "Guys who know when to stop talking," she replied smoothly.

Luckily, Benvolio caught that signal easily. He parted her lips with his own, his hand tangling in her hair as the other slid around her back, pulling her all the way against him. Rosaline couldn't help smiling into the kiss. She felt giddy and her skin was flushed where Benvolio's fingertips touched her. She lifted to her toes and bunched her hands around his shirt, reaching up to deepen the kiss. Benvolio groaned.

"Not to be _that_ guy, but Father Lawrence will be there any moment now with the presents for the kids and I don't think this is _how_ he pictured Montagues and Capulets making up."

Romeo stood there with a ridiculous grin. Rosaline reluctantly drew back, her hands grabbing Benvolio's arms instead of his clothing. "Addie did want to invite you over for dinner," she smiled at Benvolio.

He kissed her again, nipping gently at her bottom lip. "Such a great auntie, coming all the way over here to extend her invitation."

 

* * *

 

Rosaline woke up to the smell of coffee and gingerbread and cinnamon, and to the feel of Benvolio's scruff grazing her neck. "Mmmh, go away, it's sleep time," she groaned as she rolled to her side. His lips trailing kisses down her neck and shoulder, she could do with; _waking up_ , not so much.

"And happy new year to you too," Benvolio laughed, nipping at her earlobe before he retreated.

"No, stay," Rosaline mumbled, aiming a blind grab for him. "You're warm."

"So are the muffins," Benvolio chuckled as he came back to bed, sitting up against the bed head. Rosaline turned around, laying her head against his chest. "Someone's feeling cozy."

"You got me into your bed, don't complain."

Benvolio's fingers went to her head, gently massaging her scalp, and Rosaline couldn't hold back a moan. She'd _definitely_ had one too many of Mercutio's spicy cocktails the night before and Benvolio's hand was doing wonders for her headache. "If I recall it right, _you_ got me into my bed," Benvolio argued. "I mean, the evidence is still out there. You _ripped_ my shirt buttons. Your lipstick is all over me."

Rosaline opened one eye. "I didn't hear you complain about that."

Benvolio flicked her nose with a finger. "I'm not complaining, just laying out the facts. Here's another fact: _your_ cousin and _my_ cousin shared a cab last night, even though they live on opposite sides of Verona."

Rosaline stretched her arms over her head like a cat, bumping her hand against Benvolio's chin. She soothed the hurt with a kiss. "They've probably eloped by now, it's a family thing," she shrugged, and bent over Benvolio to reach for her cup of coffee on his nightstand.

Benvolio's hand wrapped around her hip, stopping her on his lap. "You're kidding, right?" he looked at her with wide eyes. "My uncle will kill him. He'll kill _me_."

Rosaline patted his cheek. "And we _don't_ want that, now, do we," she said before she kissed his worry away. Benvolio's mouth opened under hers, and his hands settled at her hips, slipping under the shirt she'd stolen from him.

She'd spent worse holiday seasons, she reckoned.

 

* * *

 

_the end_

 

 


End file.
